Birthday
by What-I-Got
Summary: Some presents are better left unopened. Especially if they are from your prankster best friend. Rated T, just to be safe.


Slightly AU, because A) I don't think Gordon had his own office B) I have no idea where Celine Dion was when this story takes place. Oh, and there is another reason, which I cannot tell you until you finish the story.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own any of the following: Black Mesa, Gordon Freeman, Barney Calhoun, _Wallace_ Breen, Dr. Kleiner, Eli Vance, Diet Coke, Celine Dion, Gina Cross, Les Misérables, Portal, or Joan Rivers. I own Bonnie, however.

Dedicated to my brother.

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**Birthday**

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"Gordon, pass the mayo, would ya?" Black Mesa security guard Barney Calhoun called to his pal from his rickety chair that was pushed up against the break room table. Lunch break had just started for the physicist and the security guard and the pair were trying to make the most of the 15 minutes of it.

Gordon nodded somewhat distractedly and pushed the jar of the creamy substance across the wooden table to his friend, who immediately grabbed the butter knife off the table and gouged a large amount of mayo out of the jar, smearing it haphazardly onto his sandwich.

"Fhanks," Barney said through a mouthful of sandwich. Gordon half-smiled back at him through his own bite of sandwich. The smells of reheated casserole, coffee, and some garlic item filled the room, giving it a vaguely comfortable feeling. A few moments of silence passed as the pair chewed their cafeteria sandwiches. Barney was the first to swallow.

"So, you planning on telling them? Or are you gunna let it slide?" he inquired, adding pepper to his lunch after a moment's thought.

"I'm letting it slide," Gordon replied quietly, avoiding Barney's eyes and favoring instead the colorful vending machine. It was out of Diet Coke again, he noted. Gordon's response didn't surprise the guard.

"Are you sure?" Barney asked, looking up briefly from peppering his ham and cheese sandwich. "I mean, it's not like you are shipping off to war or anything. It's your birthday."

"I know." Gordon answered. He didn't want to get into the subject of not telling anyone it was his birthday. Staff birthday parties at Black Mesa were notorious for being mind-numbing, monotonous occasions. No guest escaped the boredom. At Dr. Cross's party last year, Dr. Kleiner fell asleep into his piece of chocolate pecan cake. Dr. Cross looked like she wanted to do the same. Another few minutes passed in a thick, uncomfortable silence as the two ate.

"Well," Barney announced after swallowing the last bite of his ham and cheese, shattering the cloud of awkward that was threatening to flatten his face. "In that case; since the other guys aren't going to celebrate your grand old 27, you and I are going to grab a beer or two after work. What do you say?"

Gordon grinned. Said 'beer or two' would be a few more than one or two (say, four or five) and afterwards, some sort of prank would be pulled on Gordon's or Barney's fellow co-workers. Yes, it sounded like a good idea. Much better than tiresome office affairs.

"I'm in." Barney was thrilled.

"Alright, man!" he high fived Gordon, who seemed to be cheered up by the idea. Barney stood up, grabbed the crumpled plastic wrap that had been around the sandwich and threw it away.

"I'll pick you up after work. They'll be my treat."

"You don't have to do that." Gordon interjected, wiping his hands off absentmindedly on his pant legs.

"Don't be stupid." Barney responded bluntly, leaning against the soda machine "I've got it. Kleiner, Vance, and I kicked something together for you."

"For my birthday?" Gordon asked, standing up and dumping his trash into the rubbish bin

"No, for Boxing Day." The security guard replied sardonically. "It's in your office."

"You didn-" Gordon started, but was cut off.

"Finish that sentence and I'll shoot you in the foot."Barney warned, giving his friend a small shove towards the exit of the room. Gordon, stumbling a little, turned and shot Barney a glare. He was met with a satisfied smile. Righting himself and readjusting his glasses, Gordon strolled out of the break room, Barney in tow.

Once they had reached the door to Gordon's office, Barney spoke up.

"Alright. It should be on the desk." Gordon nodded. Knowing those three, it was probably something that was going to be annoying, explode, make loud noise, or nearly kill him. In other words, it was going to get him in trouble with administration.

He had no idea just how right he was.

Cautiously, he opened the door.

He _certainly_ wasn't prepared for what he was about to see.

Sitting suggestively on the edge of his desk was a dark haired woman in her early to mid twenties. She wore an olive colored, ridiculously low cut blouse, in which the edge of a red lacy bra was peeking out, a black miniskirt that barely covered her shapely rump, and four inch stiletto heels that were tied on around her ankles with black ribbon. She had cherry red lips, green eye shadow, and a sun-kissed complexion. Her face was too long and her nose too angular for her to be called "pretty" or even "cute" but she had a pair of big blue mascara-framed eyes that shone like silver. She jumped slightly hearing the door open, causing the already scant skirt to ride even higher up her thighs. Spotting the flabbergasted man, she stood up smiling, smoothed down the skirt and remarked in a silky voice.

"Dr. Freeman, I'm hoping?"

Said man was currently opening and closing his mouth in such a way that would make a sea bass proud. Painfully awkward silence filled the room, causing the woman to uneasily shift her weight from one leg to the other. After a few seconds of sheer silence, Barney kicked Gordon in the back of the shin, which seemed to yank him out of his stunned trance. Instead of answering the woman's question, Gordon instead turned on his friend.

"_You got me a_**hooker** _for my birthday_?!" He exclaimed, grabbing Barney by his collar. If administration found out, he would be fired before he could even say "Oops." Barney's face changed from puzzlement to sheer terror. Before he could answer, the woman spoke up.

"Excuse me?" She responded, her voice turning as frigid and unfriendly as deep space, stark in comparison to what it had been. Gordon turned to look at her, her smile gone without a trace and in its place was an expression that could kill.

"Gordon, do you have _**any idea**_ who that is?" Barney hissed, trying to remove himself from Gordon's iron grasp. "That's the administrator's _wife, _Bonnie."

Gordon turned as white as a sheet, unadulterated horror dawning over his features.

"How the **[CENSORED]** was I supposed to know that?" He spat back at the uncomfortable security guard.

"I thought you'dve seen her around here before! She's in the cafeteria every morning!" Barney responded in a defensive tone, hands up. Bonnie cleared her throat and the two stopped their banter and turned their attention back to the currently insulted wife of the administrator.

"Hello, Calhoun." Bonnie remarked, head tilted, arms crossed at her chest. She regarded him with the airs of a trouble maker she often dealt with.

"Hello, Mrs. Breen." Barney said sheepishly, giving her a small acknowledging nod, all the while avoiding her eyes and shrinking away from Gordon.

"Dr. Freeman," Mrs. Breen spat out the name as if it tasted of spoiled milk. Gordon was screwed and they both knew it. "My initial reason for appearing in your office was to inform you that you were invited to the conference in Washington D.C. next week and that Wallace wanted you to make the opening remarks on behalf of Black Mesa."

Gordon let out a strain of curses under his breath. He had been hoping for the chance to travel to this particular conference for months and now that he had been given the chance, he mucked it up. Big time. Bonnie was radiating malice like a supernova.

"But," Mrs. Breen continued, her voice rising dangerously with her fury. "Since you obviously have no respect for Wallace or myself, I have no choice but to give the position to another person of more… _admirable _traits."

Barney stepped clear out of her path as she came storming towards the door. She stopped just in front of Gordon, who was opening and closing his mouth again, trying to come up with the right words for an apology.

"Mrs. Breen…I…I'm…Uh…." He started, but she spoke over him fiercely.

"Consider yourself lucky that you're even keeping your job." She began, pointing a heavily manicured finger in his face. "Jackass or not, you're one of our best in AM, so we, unfortunately, cannot afford to lose you. But, we can take it out on your paycheck." She pushed past him and out the door. Thinking twice about it, she turned back to Barney.

"And Calhoun." She said, causing him to straighten up painfully.

"Y-yes?" he remarked, sounding slightly timid. She was a daunting lady.

"Stop mimicking the beeping noises of the access doors whenever you have to open them for someone. It's not professional." With that, she turned on her cheap heels and stormed off in a distant direction. The two men stood in silence, watching her leave. Once she was out of sight, Gordon took off his glasses, put his head in his hands and collapsed in his chair behind his desk.

"Man, I am so sorry about that." Barney started apologetically, closing the door behind him and running a hand through his messy dark hair.

"What was my real gift?" Gordon asked sighing, slightly muffled by his hands. He had not looked up.

"Two tickets to a Celine Dion concert." Barney offered hoping that Gordon didn't explode. Said person looked up at him with a strange expression.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Gordon blinked. It figures they'd do something like that.

"Why Celine Dion?"

Barney shrugged.

"It was the only good concert within 400 miles," He began, leaning against the door. "Besides; you have no life outside of Black Mesa. There are going to be _thousands _of women at this concert. It'll be easy." He stopped to breathe "and I actually sort of like Celine Dion." He added under his breath.

"Well," Gordon began, putting his glasses back on, "judging from how I just handled this, I don't think it's going to be that easy." Barney chuckled.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life and Dr. Breen's voice sprang out in a stream of slow, deliberate words that just barely masked the intense rage.

"Dr. Freeman, please report to my office. _Immediately_. I repeat; Dr. Freeman, you are urgently needed in my office. **Now. **That is all." The intercom was silenced, both Breen's voice and the static.

Gordon sighed and banged his head against the desk, causing a mug full of pencils to tip over. Barney, feeling more than a bit responsible for the whole incident, remarked.

"I take it that you aren't going to be able to make it for those beers tonight, huh?"

"Ughmph." Said Dr. Freeman. Barney bit his lip anxiously.

"Well, see you tomorrow, Gordon." He called over his shoulder, quickly slipping out of the office.

"See you tomorrow, Barney." Gordon mumbled after him.

_It's official._

Freeman thought.

_Birthdays suck._

**A/N**

Yeah, third reason? I don't think Breen had a wife.

I don't understand why Gordon would think that she was a hooker. I mean, she looked the part, but how in the world would Barney, Kleiner, and Vance be able to get a hooker to Black Mesa, an underground top secret government facility in the middle of a New Mexican (or something) desert? I'd love to see the directions they would have to send her.

_Turn left at the giant rock; go 35 miles west until you reach a larger rock. Then, go 12 miles south until you reach a boulder that looks like Joan Rivers. From there, lift up what would be her chin, type in access code 24601…_

And even more, how would they do it without anyone realizing it?

Geniuses usually have no common sense.


End file.
